


What is Right and What is Easy: Part I

by everchanginginks



Series: What is Right and What is Easy [1]
Category: Glee, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Hogwarts First Year, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:58:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everchanginginks/pseuds/everchanginginks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>July, 1991. Children all over Britain receive their letters of acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Magic has always been a constant in Kurt Hummel's life, so the arrival of the letter isn't very surprising. It's different for Noah Puckerman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. July, 1991

Burt Hummel let out a heavy sigh of relief as he stepped out of _Hummel’s Broomstick Repair._ With a quick flick of his wand, the door swung shut behind him and a sharp ‘click’ was heard when it locked itself. The sky had darkened and the street was mostly empty, save for a few drunkards on their way home from the Leaky Cauldron. It had been a long day as he had been held back by an emergency repair. Guilt for leaving his son alone for hours settled heavy in his stomach as he closed his eyes and imagined _home_ – white wooden panes, frilly curtains, an immaculate garden and smoke coming from the chimney – in his mind. Within seconds, he vanished with a soft ‘pop’, leaving the street deserted.

The large kitchen window had been opened to let in the remnants of the hot summer day into the snow white cottage. The smell of warm food and freshly baked bread greeted him before he even had reached the picket fence, accompanied by the clear tones of his son’s voice. He was singing and Burt could not suppress his smile. It had only been recently that Kurt had started singing again. As he walked up the gravel path, he recognized the tune as a happy one and his foul mood turned for the better immediately.

“Kurt?”

“In the kitchen, dad!”

Burt shrugged out of his cloak and pulled off his shoes before entering the kitchen, where his son stood upon a stool to reach the counter properly. He wore his mother’s fancy apron and hummed under his breath while stirring the soup. He turned when he heard Burt, his eyes, which were a mixture of green, grey and blue, wide with poorly hidden excitement. He wore a smile Burt had not seen in years and it made his chest expand with warmth.

“Hi, dad.”

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Good day at work?”

“Long day at work,” he sighed while he peered into the pot. “What’s for dinner?”

“Oh! I wanted to try something new, so I picked a recipe from mum’s book… Is that okay?”

Kurt glanced at him, worry temporarily clouding his sunny mood. Burt gave him a soft nudge.

“Of course, Kurt.”

The assurance was enough to make Kurt light up again and he flashed him that smile, that smile which could bring any proud father close to tears.

“So, it is a kind of chicken soup, but with a couple of different spices which I picked up from the store earlier… Saffron was a bit expensive, but mum had written that it was really important in the book… I think it smells good. Oh, I baked that bread you like too!” 

“It smells real nice,” Burt replied and squeezed his shoulder. “How about I set the table, huh?”

“Okay. It will be done soon.”

“Alright.”

“Ma? Ma! There’s someone at the door!”

Puck hesitated on his way towards the kitchen, from which he could hear his baby sister screaming her lungs out, and glanced upon the door. Someone pressed the bell once again and he turned to call out for his mother one more time.

“MA!”

“Noah!” Ruth called back, frustration and stress in her voice as she tried to soothe her three year old daughter. “Would you please just open the door? Sarah, please, honey, calm down for mama…”

Shrugging, Puck crossed the hall and unlocked the door. Maybe it was Finn coming over for a round of _Dr. Mario_ on his brand new second-hand Game Boy. That would be cool, because he had barely seen Finn since school in June and now it was like… _July._ So, forever ago. He could feel a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he swung the door open, positive that it had to be him, Puck really needed to show him that cool thing that… Oh. The glee went out of him just as quickly as it had arrived, his shoulders slumped and the smile fell from his lips.

Needless to say, it was not Finn who stood on his doorstep. No, it was the most peculiar little man he had ever laid his eyes upon. Little, because he really was _little._ Like, seriously tiny. Puck knew that he was not the tallest eleven year old in his class, but he was at least a head taller than this guy… and probably two hundred years younger. Puck took a second to squint curiously at him; from the large, purple hat he wore on top of tufts of wild, white hair, to the rainbow striped poncho, the corduroy pants all the way down to the shockingly modest black shoes and then back up again.

“Whatever you’re selling, we don’t want it,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

The Little Old Man gave a little startle and blinked in obvious confusion before a smile overcame his face, turning every wrinkle ten times deeper. He chuckled and shook his head.

“No, no, no, I am no salesman!” The Little Old Man said while reaching out to grab Puck’s hand, which had been motionless by his side, and shook it vigorously. “I’m a professor! Professor Filius Flitwick, my dear boy, and it is a pleasure to meet you, Noah Puckerman, it truly is.”

“How do you know my name?” Puck said, eyeing this… this Flitwick character suspiciously while he pulled his hand from his surprisingly strong grip.

“Oh, not to worry, I shall reveal it all to you in a short amount of time, but first… may I come in?”

“Ma says not to let in strangers. They can be killers and rapists and kidnappers.”

“That is quite true, but I can assure you that I am none of those things. Is your mother home?”

“Yeah, so?”

“I would really like to speak to both of you. About your education.”

This made the frown upon Puck’s face deepen further and he cocked his head to the side, eyebrows reaching for his mohawk.

“My education? Like… _school?”_

That was where this weirdo was coming from? A _school?_

“Yes, that is absolutely correct,” Flitwick replied, but his grin had widened, like he knew something Puck did not and quite honestly, he really wanted to know.

He turned towards the kitchen, one hand still on the door handle and called loudly into the apartment.

“MA! We’ve got a visitor!” 

It took a few moments before Ruth even acknowledged his shouting and he was about to call once more, louder this time, when she came bustling through the hallway, carrying the still weeping Sarah upon her hip. Some of her greying brown hair had escaped her ponytail, probably from Sarah pulling at it, and she was red around the eyes. Puck chose not to say anything about it, because he did not want her to feel self-conscious in front of the weirdo. Ruth gave Flitwick a once over, pursed her lips and said:

“Whatever you’re selling, we don’t want it.”

The letter had arrived around four in the afternoon, delivered by a large Great Grey Owl, which had picked on the windowsill to Kurt’s room while he was rearranging his tiara collection. He often did this when his dad was out, since he knew that Burt disapproved of its existence. Kurt rarely got letters addressed to him and as soon as he had turned it around in his hands and laid eyes upon the unmistakable purple seal, he could barely withhold his excitement. Even when he sat down by the dining table that evening, opposite his father, the mere thought of the letter carefully enveloped in the pocket of his shirt made his body tremble with joy. He reached into the fabric to softly finger the parchment, just to see if it was still there, if he had not imagined it all, like he had done multiple times since its arrival. Burt cleared his throat from across the table.

“This… This is really good, Kurt.”

“Thank you, dad,” he smiled and let go of the letter to grab his spoon again.

“Tastes just like hers,” Burt continued, shovelling another spoonful into his mouth and Kurt felt warmth spread all through his body.

“I did my best,” Kurt said honestly. “Because I wanted to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” Burt asked with confusion.

Feeling his cheeks heat up slightly, he pulled the letter from his pocket and placed it upon the tablecloth.

“I got this today,” he said, his eyes never wavering from his father.

Burt frowned as he took the already opened envelope in his hand, turning it over to see the purple seal. The lines in his face slowly faded and he looked up at Kurt, lips parted in some sort of joyous mix of emotions. Then he sprang to his feet, a bit too quickly so the table wobbled dangerously and the plates and cutlery clattered, to grab a hold of his son. He pressed him tight to his chest, a laughter reverberating within his ribcage and throat.

“You got in, Kurt, you got in!” He grinned, his voice thicker than usual.

“Yeah.”

“I’m so proud of you, kid,” Burt murmured and stroked a hand over Kurt’s hair.

Kurt buried his face in Burt’s chest, inhaling that familiar scent of sweat, poorly chosen after shave and the soap he used for the broomsticks in the shop, all of which was his father and he felt happy.

Flitwick looked rather misplaced while perching on one of the chairs in the Puckerman kitchen. Ruth, who had passed the still sniffling Sarah over to Puck, placed a tea cup in front of him and smiled politely. Flitwick grinned.

“Why thank you, dear, that is awfully kind of you,” he said and gestured towards the seat across of him. “Now, please sit down. I have a lot to explain and not too much time.”

Ruth sat down next to Puck, absently placing Sarah back in her lap as Flitwick reached into his rainbow poncho to pull out a piece of paper. No, a letter. He smiled when he placed it on the table and pushed it gently towards Puck.

“For me?”

“For you.”

Puck had never received a letter before. Not in an envelope and all. Sure, he had gotten some birthday cards from nana, but that did not really count. He had never gotten a letter like _this._ His eyes flickered to his ma, who was frowning, but not saying anything, so he reached across the table to take the envelope in his hands. It was addressed directly to him and everything. He murmured the words under his breath before turning it over in his hand and breaking open the seal without second thought.

“What does it say, Noah?” Ruth urged softly from his side, shushing Sarah who had yet to completely calm down.

“Dear Mr. Puckerman,” he read out loud and snickered. Nobody called him _Mr. Puckerman._ It sounded ridiculous. _“We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than 31 July…_ My owl?”

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow towards Flitwick, who was nodding enthusiastically.

“Oh yes, I’ll get to that later. Now, do you understand what this means?”

Ruth took the letter from his hands and scanned it, still frowning.

“No,” Puck replied, shrugging.

“You see, Mr Puckerman-“

“Is this a joke?” Ruth interjected suddenly, her voice firmer than before. She sounded annoyed.

“Of course not, Mrs Puckerman.”

“Then what is this?” She threw the letter on top of the table once more, her cheeks turning red. “Witchcraft? Wizardry? _Owl?_ Are you telling me that my son is some kind of wizard?”

Flitwick merely smiled.

“That is exactly what I’m telling you.”

“I’m a what?” Puck asked, his voice loud in the thick silence that followed Flitwick’s words. 

“A wizard, dear boy.”

“Like… what, a magician? Can I pull rabbits out of hats and stuff?”

Flitwick chuckled, seemingly delighted and amused by his reply.

“I do not speak of simple illusions, like card tricks and disappearing coins, decapitated assistants and escape artists. No, no. You’re capable of so much more,” he said and reached beneath his rainbow poncho and he pulled out… a stick.

Puck shared a look with his equally confused mother, who gave him a puzzled frown in return. Sarah whimpered.

“Magic,” Flitwick continued, seemingly oblivious to their silent exchange of scepticism. “is something that lives within us. When taught how to use it, it allows us to create wonders. More tea?”

Ruth blinked and nodded stiffly. Flitwick smiled and waved his stick in the direction of the kettle on the stove. Suddenly it lifted, hovered for a few seconds in the air before it slowly, almost lazily made its way towards the kitchen table.

“Wow!” Puck exclaimed loudly, over the sound of Ruth’s horrified spluttering, getting to his feet quickly to examine the flying kettle.

He flung his arm through the air over the kettle, trying to find the string that must have been holding it up, but came up with nothing.

“That is so cool! How do you do that? Is there a string somewhere? A rope? A _force field?”_

“I suppose a force field is the most accurate description,” Flitwick chuckled and flicked his stick once more. The kettle started pouring tea into their cups. Puck could not stop staring.

“You mean that _I_ can do this stuff too?” he breathed out, awestruck.

“In time. Though, first you must be properly educated in the arts of magic. That’s where Hogwarts comes into the equation.”

Then several things happened in very quick succession. Puck barely had time to react. Ruth gave away a weak little noise and slipped from her chair. The kettle crashed to the floor, tea spilling everywhere over the linoleum. And Sarah, who Puck had tried to lunge for so she would not go down with their mother, was soaring mid-air, giggling like crazy.

“Don’t worry, boy,” Flitwick smiled as he waved that stick of his, making Sarah gently plop down in Puck’s arms. “This is not the first fainting Muggle I’ve encountered.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August, 1991. The first day of school is drawing near and Puck wants to go shopping for his _magic stuff_ (because seriously, how cool is that?!) and while he meets resistance from one direction, he is pleasantly surprised by another. Kurt is just _impatient._

“Are you sure there’s not…? Not even-“

“Ma?”

“Not now, Noah, I’m on the phone.”

“Ma,” Puck whined softly and plopped down into one of the kitchen chairs with a great sigh.

“It’s just…” Ruth lowered her voice as she spoke into the receiver, shielding it with her hand, but Puck heard her anyway. “Money’s a bit tight this month, just one shift would be enough.”

She leaned back against the refrigerator and closed her eyes for a moment, her shoulders sagging. 

“It’s okay, I… I understand. If there’s nothing, there’s nothing. It’s alright, we’ll manage. Thank you.”

She put the phone down and pulled her hands over her face, rubbing her temples with the tips of her fingers. Puck noticed that she had that wrinkle between her eyebrows that meant that she was worried about something. 

“Ma?” Puck said again and she looked a little startled, as if she had forgotten that he was there.

“What is it, Noah?”

“Uhm, it’s just that school starts soon and we haven’t gotten my… stuff yet.”

“Stuff?” She questioned, looking confused. “Do you need a new bag? I thought the one you had last term looked fine-“

“Yeah, it’s fine, it’s not stuff like that, I have the list here,” Puck interrupted, pulling the neatly folded parchment from his back pocket to put on the table between them.

Ruth took one look at it and seemed to sag even further, her thin body suddenly too heavy for her to carry. She sat down opposite him and clasped her hands together tightly.

“Noah,” she began and Puck knew instantly what she was going to say.

“I’ll be good, ma,” he blurted out quickly. “If you let me go, I’ll be so good, I swear!”

His heart was beating fast, thumping hard in his chest, forceful enough to hurt. He felt as if he was losing something he had barely grasped the concept of, but it meant more to him than anything else had ever done.

“It’s not about whether you’d behave or not-“

“Then what is it? I’ll do whatever you want-“

“We can’t afford this, Noah, we-“

“Flitwick mentioned scholarships, didn’t he, I could get one of those and-“

“Dammit, Noah!” Ruth slammed her hands onto the table, causing Puck to jump and promptly shut his mouth. “I can’t deal with this, with this _nonsense-“_

“It’s _not_ nonsense, ma!” He exclaimed, horrified and angered.

“Don’t interrupt me!” She replied, raising her voice.

“Then stop talking bloody bullshit!”

“Noah! Language!” 

Puck stood then, snatching the school supply list and shoving it down his pocket again.

“I’m going,” he said firmly, clenching his jaw as he marched out of the kitchen, ignoring his mother’s calls for him while pushing his feet into his shoes and finally slamming the front door shut behind him.

He stormed down the gravel path and nearly tripped over his untied shoe laces in his haste. The bus stop was just down the road. Surely there would be a bus to London that could take him to the right shops. How difficult could it be? He would show his ma. He would come back with magic books and magic wands and magic clothes and magic cauldrons and perhaps even a magic _toad_ just to gross her out.

Puck slumped down on a bench by the bus stop, his knee jumping restlessly and his trembling hands formed into tight fists. How could she say something like that? It was not nonsense, it could not be nonsense. Flitwick had been there, in their kitchen, he had made their kettle _fly!_ Of course it was not nonsense. His ma was just being _stupid._

“Noah?”

Puck blinked. In his fury he had not even noticed the old car that had rolled up next to the bus stop. The front seat window was down and Mrs Hudson, Finn’s mum, peaked her head out.

“What are you doing here, dear?” She asked, smiling kindly.

“Going to London,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Is that so? Does Ruth know you’re here?”

“She knows.”

“Alright then. Do you want a ride? Finn and I are heading there as well.”

Puck’s eyes drifted to the back seat, where he now saw Finn, grinning wildly with his nose pressed against the window. Puck had to bite his lip not to burst into laughter.

“I guess,” he shrugged and got up from the bench. 

Finn opened the car door for him.

“Move over, weirdo,” Puck said as he gave Finn’s shoulder a gentle push and hopped into the car.

“Fine,” Finn replied, rolling his eyes. “Turd face.”

Puck cracked a smile and Finn smiled back, digging his Game Boy out of his backpack.

“Wanna play _Dr. Mario?”_

  


Kurt often enjoyed the days his father brought him to _Hummel’s Broomstick Repair._ Burt always taught him something new about his work and Kurt truly relished the moments he was able to display his recently acquired knowledge for various customers. He nearly always assisted Burt by handing him the right equipment and entertained himself by giving the brooms various oil treatments for a particularly glossy finish. However, this day he had other things on his mind and absolutely no interest in how to mend a broom with some stupid broken twigs. Today was the day he was going to get a _wand._

“Aren’t we done yet?” he asked with a heavy sigh, slumping against the counter. 

Burt chuckled and looked up from the broom he had been working on. It was currently in five pieces.

“Does it look like I’m done?” he replied, which only made Kurt release a frustrated huff.

“We’ve been here _forever_ and I want to go to _Ollivanders!”_

“I know that, but this would go a lot quicker if you could be a little less whiny and a lot more helpful,” Burt pointed out. “Ollivanders isn’t going anywhere anytime soon and I’ve got a deadline on this broom.”

“Fine,” Kurt got up dramatically to join Burt by his work station. “Is there anything _I_ can do?”

Burt smiled and gave one of the five pieces of broom to him, the very end of it. 

“See if you can replace those broken twigs, yeah? And I’ll try to patch up the rest in record time, alright?”

“Okay, dad.”

  


“So, Noah…” Mrs Hudson spoke from the driver’s seat. “What brings you to London?”

“Can’t tell you,” Puck replied, eyes not wavering from the game boy in his hands. “Top secret.”

Finn’s eyes widened.

“Really? Is it like… are you an agent? Is it like James Bond top secret?” he asked in what he obviously thought was a hushed whisper.

Puck rolled his eyes. 

“Dude, I’m like eleven, pretty sure MI6 doesn’t hire eleven year olds.”

Finn sunk back in his seat with sagging shoulders, sighing in disappointment.

“That’s true. Would’ve been cool, though,” he answered and perked up again immediately afterwards. “Hey mum, we’re on a top secret mission too, right?”

“That’s right, Finn.”

Puck raised his eyebrows sceptically. _Sure_ they were. He was pretty sure they were not going to London to get _magic_ stuff so they could go to _magic_ school to learn _magic_ because they actually were _wizards._ Or a wizard and a witch. Whatever.

“Bet it’s not as top secret as mine,” he said, smirking at the glimpse of Finn’s put off face.

“It is _too,_ you can’t know that!” Finn objected fiercely.

“Yeah, and you can’t know it either.”

“Muuuum! Tell him!”

Mrs Hudson sighed heavily and glanced at them in the rear-view mirror.

“I’m sure our missions are equally top secret, boys. Either way, it’s nothing to fight about.”

The subject was dropped after that and both boys returned to arguing over the game instead during the remainder of the ride. Their quiet little neighbourhood was not located very far away from the city and travelling to London by car did not take more than thirty minutes. When the houses of the big city started to flicker past the windows, Puck’s attention transferred from the game. 

Puck’s family very rarely went to the city, despite the closeness. He knew that his ma worked there from time to time, but he had not been there himself for years. Last time was with his dad. He shook the memory from his head as the car came to a stop and Mrs Hudson turned off the engine. She took off her seatbelt and turned around to look at them sternly.

“You two stay put while I make a phone call, alright?”

“Okay,” they replied in unison.

“Good. I’ll be right back.”

She pushed the door open and hurried across the road to a phone booth. 

“I think she’s calling your mum,” Finn said.

“Yeah.”

“Does your mum really know that you’re here?”

“Not really,” Puck shrugged.

“She might be worried, you know.”

“Whatever.”

“Did you like, have a fight or something?”

“Or something.”

“Does this have to do with your top secret mission?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

They sat in silence while Mrs Hudson was on the phone, Puck slumped down in his seat, feeling very not guilty about possibly making his ma worried. She kind of deserved it anyway. He had to get his magic stuff, not his problem that she was going to be all stupid about it. 

Maybe he should apologise when he got home. With his magic stuff.

The door to his seat opened suddenly and Mrs Hudson looked inside with a warm, wide smile.

“You know what, Noah, I think we share the very same top secret mission.”

Finn let out an excited squeak and grabbed a hold of Puck’s arm, tight enough to hurt.

~~~

It had taken the better part of twenty minutes to make Finn calm down enough to leave the car without risking spreading the details of their top secret mission to everyone within a five mile radius. However, he was pretty much skipping as Mrs Hudson guided them through the streets and was not doing a very good job of keeping low profile.

“I have _so_ much to tell you,” he kept saying, over and over. “But not right now, because it’s _secret_ and maybe a _Muggle_ will hear-“

That word. He had heard it before. Flitwick had used it after Puck’s ma had fainted that day.

“What does Muggle mean?” he interjected and Finn’s eyes widened with the prospect of having something to explain to him. “I mean, Flitwick said it too, but he didn’t explain-“

“A Muggle is what we call normal people,” Finn said. “You know, non-magical people. Like your mum and the guys at school.”

“What about you, Mrs Hudson?” Puck asked, turning towards her. “Are you a Muggle, like my ma?”

Mrs Hudson shook her head and Puck looked her over; the worn denim of her jeans and vest and that mum-hair. She looked very normal to him. He must have voiced his thoughts aloud, because Mrs Hudson laughed.

“I guess that professor Flitwick wore his finest when he visited you?” she said with a knowing grin.

“It was a _rainbow poncho,”_ he replied with wide eyes for emphasis and that set Finn off in a fit of giggles. “I didn’t even know that clothes like that existed!”

“Most wizards and witches who aren’t living in a Muggle community sometimes have a hard time keeping up with the current fashion trends,” Mrs Hudson explained, seemingly very amused.

“But what do they normally wear? Flitwick’s not wearing rainbow ponchos all the time right?”

“Robes,” Finn piped up. “Almost likes capes. It’s a little ridiculous, but also really cool!”

“You’ll see soon, Noah, we’re almost there,” Mrs Hudson interjected.

“Where is _there_ exactly?”

“Diagon Alley!”

Puck opened his mouth to throw out yet another question, but was effectively silenced by Finn grabbing him by the wrist to pull him through a door. He had been too wrapped up in his thoughts to even realise that they had approached a dodgy looking bar. He managed a quick glance upward, registering the words _The Leaky Cauldron_ on a sign before his eyes had to struggle with adjusting to the dim lighting within the building.

He was not sure of what he had been expecting, but the crowd within was not it. For such a shabby place, it sure was packed. The actual bar was straight ahead and a wild assortment of people occupied the high barstools. Quite a few tables were scattered across the room, they too surrounded by what Puck assumed must be wizards and witches judging by the odd choices in clothing. The volume was loud and filled with laughter and despite the grim appearance, _The Leaky Cauldron_ felt warm and welcoming.

Puck felt something pleasant settle in his body which brought a smile to his lips. A sense of belonging.

“We must have hit rush hour,” Mrs Hudson sighed, her hands landing on Puck’s and Finn’s shoulders. "Come on, boys, this way.”

Mrs Hudson led them through the bar, too fast for Puck’s liking. He would have preferred to stick around for just a little while and his eyes danced all over the bar before he was brought through yet another door. They ended up in a courtyard with brick walls reaching towards the sky all around. Puck frowned. There was nothing there but weeds and a dustbin.

“Now what?” he said, looking unimpressed.

Mrs Hudson reached into her denim vest and pulled out a stick similar to the one Flitwick had. A wand. The unhappy lines on Puck’s face immediately evened out and left place for poorly hidden excitement and awe. 

Mrs Hudson brought the tip of her wand to the brick wall ahead of them and tapped it three times. The brick the wand had touched suddenly moved. Puck instinctively took a step backwards, nearly stepping onto Finn’s foot as a tiny little hole appeared within the brick wall. The hole grew and grew, Puck blinked once and then they stood before a large archway.

Finn stepped through the archway onto the long cobbled street that now stretched out in front of them, zigzagging out of sight between crooked buildings and shops.

“Diagon Alley!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms out.


End file.
